[center][b][i]Cease Fire[/i][/b][/center] --- The party sent for to negotiate and secure the treatise between the rival factions arrives in a small town known as Kulseruck. They were now deep into Rheinfeld on the border between the established territory of the Rheinfeld Republic and Templar Order after crossing the natural mountain barrier between the two kingdoms. The journey there had been uneventful, truly, but there was a palpable tension that certainly there might be trouble to come. This feeling of wariness is only amplified within Kulseruck. The town, set within the middle of the plains in a large farming region, is encompassed by a defensible wooden barrier as was Rheinfeld tradition. Along each of the highways was a gate entrance, wide open, with a pair of archers up top looking down as a small party of foot soldiers, or rather militia would seem more correct with their cobbled together armaments even consisting of objects they could find around the shed, keeping watch with apparent boredom. Coming up, the party can see scorch marks across the fields and segments of wooden wall that appear newer. The guard visibly grow nervous as they adjust their shoddy shields and assorted weapons. It is now, the leader of the party, an elder man with extensive scarring over every inch of visible skin, steps forward. One of the guard shuffles forward, he appears young with a patchy beard but his eyes reveal someone who has seen more in his years than he cares to talk about, the puckered scar descending across an entire side of his face only evidences this. “H-halten! Sie kommen... Sie kommen am Kulseruck. Welche unternehmen haben Sie? “ They were obviously riled by the level of arms the group has... One of them, a wizened man with a frazzled beard of steel and snow stares wide-eyed at the ogre amongst them. The elder man steps forward amongst the group, with a simple but still well made brown robe obscuring most of his body, with the sleeves drooping over his arms and obscuring them. The slight sound of metal clanking underneath the robe suggested that this was more than a simple elderly man. And the horrid burn marks that covered his lower jaw and stretched down into his neck and unseen below the robe told a horror story that most would be better off not knowing. “I am [url=http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/281/b/a/quickie_by_alecgrl21-d5h81ax.jpg]Sisera of Renalta[/url], Brother and Royal advisor of Queen Kouri of Renalta” he said with a polite, friendly but at the same time stern and authoritative voice. He pulls up his sleeve and from his burned hands produces a letter with a royal seal. “I believe there are some very anxious people in your church whom we would be delighted to speak to.” The men shift uneasily, eying each other and muttering amongst themselves in rough Rheinfelder. One of them takes charge and appears to tell the others of the group off, the young man in charge. He clears his throat, settling his gaze on Sisera and speaks out, obviously struggling, “Yes, they waiting. They are.... Frighten, like.. Like children?” His compatriot shakes his head and corrects, “Nervous. They're nervous. Can't blame 'em. Half the town is hiding out, waiting for everything to get over with.” The younger man seems confused by the stream of discussion before nodding, pointing back behind him, “Yes, do go. Church. Everyone there.” The guard stands aside to either side of the gate, giving them all passage.... Alhvaharyis would be able to catch two of them making a snippet of speech between each other in Rheinfelder about being thankful they did not have to try and stop a 'damned ogre' and how they 'had enough trouble with the others'. Beyond the great walls, the city lays out before them. In the center of the town was an old church building, tall and proud, though now somber in its tone with its broken windows and a collapsed wall on the side. One of the doors hangs partially off its hinges. It is not the only building in the town in such repair. Some of the homes and establishments appear to have “good enough” patch jobs set up in their walls, roofs and more. Even the people seem a bit broken as they give the party wary glances, shuffle into the buildings and just overall try to avoid them. A few stubborn individuals remain out in the open, tending to their everyday lives, or as much as they could gather back up. A few even lounge about, obvious refuges from other reaches of the country. Sisera stands before the church, a relic of a bygone age. Shame such beauty had to go to waste on such a wretched religion. He turns and faces his group of Queen's Blades and looks at them with a slight wry smile. “Now I'm heading into the Church to catch up with an old friend before negotiations officially begin. Those who wish to accompany me may do so. However, if you desire you may mingle with the locals for a short while, but be quick about it.” With this last sentence, Sisera gave a quick wink that only his Queen's Blades would be able to see. A hint? Or perhaps just an old man getting his kicks? Who could tell with a man as reclusive as himself. --- [center][b][i]Here Cometh the Wolves[/i][/b][/center] --- Whispers and uncertain reports, that's what the group had gotten. They could all review the request papers passed on to them from their supervisor in the Queens' Blades. It said the same thing, reports of an individual, usually a woman. The motif was always the same... Witnesses of a man in a large coat obscuring his features, in the dead of night descending. Each morning, a new body was being found with deep furrows carved into their flesh. As far as the reports say, they assume them from a rending animal... or bestial humanoid. In further investigation, they would each prove to have a tie to the General Varro Luclin or the Archmagi Janelle Naeloa. Rather than a trip across part of a continent and the Blood Sea, the group used magic means to cross the distance. Through a series of a teleportation hubs set up by a broadening mage community, they managed to essentially 'hop' their way to a closer place where they could manage to walk... Of course, that may have been of little comfort to some, as the final mage joked, as they still had to take a ship to reach Port Luclin. There, they were met with an escort and brought to the local official office. As they enter the main conference room, they would be able to see a trio of individuals all in similar attire marking their station as local law: A human of marked higher station, and a pair of lizard-folk with.... more than obvious mixed blood. One other individual stands in the room, a white winged animal standing vigilantly at her side and watching those entering with predatory intrigue. The [url=http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs49/f/2009/157/f/e/Rogue__by_xSheepi.jpg]woman[/url], short but still managing to hold herself tall looks over the group even in her middle age, her lips pursed into a tight line. Esyllt and Jelial would feel a wave of worry wash out from her, before reassurance filters in as her eyes rest on her mage apprentice. A faint trace of a smile flickers over her face before she clears her throat, shifting her weight and resting more heavily on a staff of more tribal design and evident age. “Some of you may know me, already, as I know you. For those of you who do not, I am Janelle Naeloa, the Archmagi of the Magi Society of Tuleria and one of the three who hold a governing seat in this kingdom.” She drifts off into silence, her eyes stopping on the vampire, distrust quite apparent at the sight of her before she continues. “I am sure you are all aware of the gravity of this situation... Have even heard some of the concerns held by those in political power. I have come, at least for now, to discuss a few of these matters with you... But, before we continue...” She reaches a hand out to the closest of the foreign investigators. “I would know you all.”